Blind Tasting

by A. C. Houston

  Joe turns to Cory. "But, it's one hundred percent cabernet franc and the vineyard produced less than 200 cases of the '06, which is indeed the vintage you're tasting."

  Dawn has unconsciously taken hold of Rob's arm, gripping it tightly.

  Toby, who situated himself near her when the tasting got underway, moves closer to her and confides in a low voice, "Your guy is pretty impressive."

  "He has a great nose." She flashes a quick smile at Toby.

  Cory picks up the third glass of wine. He repeats the protocol, feeling confident with it at this point.

  This time it's the middle finger that Snoots sniffs, and finds another hit, due east on the right shoe, upper level:

  04 trella dante-hl cab-sauv 98 pp

  From his first sip he can tell this is an extraordinary cabernet-sauvignon, even without Snoots. It's superb. It has deep fruit, a sumptuous, full mouth, and a long, layered finish. It's the third wine in a lineup of five and it's likely Trella has included one of their own. Cory knows they excel at cabernets. The fourth and fifth wines are probably going to be heavier.

  Why not go for it. He swirls more, and takes another taste. "This is a premier cabernet sauvignon."

  Julie looks at him, rolling the wine over her tongue. "I agree. There's such concentration of fruit. Very likely Napa, single-sourced, perhaps the outstanding 2004 vintage."

  Cory's competitive instinct kicks in. "I'm going to guess Trella's '04 Dante Hill limited production. Leonard Pillar gave it 98 points."

  Joe gives a low gasp as he looks at Cory. "You absolutely nailed it. That is our 2004 Dante Hill in your third glass." The assembled crowd breaks into spontaneous applause.

  Denis regards Cory with deepening interest. Denis thinks he himself would have made the call on the Trella wine. But not that fast.

  Cory swirls the wine in his fourth glass, dipping and stealthily offering his left ring finger to Snoots. As he waits for the dog's response, he tastes the wine. A lot of dark young fruit, but strangely unbalanced, as though the layers of flavor had not assembled together quite. He waits for Snoots.

  Nothing, the dog quits. No text.

  Well, this one's off his map. Cory doesn't know what to make of it. He'll bide his time and wait to hear what the two wine masters say about it.

  Denis muses over it. He has noted the Taster's silence. "This is a young wine. I'd place it in Sonoma, a young Alexander Valley syrah."

  Julie nods. "Quite a young syrah. It has a ruggedness and power that show promise. I'd like to try it again in a year, to see how it develops."

  Syrah? Maybe, but it's missing the richness that Cory associates with California syrahs. Would Joe Trella include some product from lesser vines, just to throw them off? He might do that. The two wine masters haven't said a lot about this wine, they both described it as young. Is that a tactful way for announcing there isn't much going on with the grapes in their glasses?

  Cory realizes they are waiting for his call at this point and he's got to contribute something, not simply repeat Julie and Denis. He decides to say what he really thinks about the wine.

  "I'm not getting much character in the mouth or the nose. I agree it's a young wine, but I don't think it will have much staying power. Some vintner's experimental cuvée. It's pretty ordinary in contrast to the three previous outstanding wines."

  Toby, who has been listening to Cory's analysis intently, tightens his jaw.

  Joe decides to say nothing at this point.

  Cory takes a long sniff from his fifth and final glass while the little finger of his left hand makes its way, secretly, to the nose of Snoots.

  The dog selects the northwest point on the right shoe, lower level, for activation:

  07 a-croft zin rk-pile 96 pp

  Yeah, it's a good zin all right. Cory decides to wait, let Julie or Denis speak first.

  Julie offers her thoughts. "This is a premier Sonoma zinfandel. The peppery notes and smoky black raspberry in the nose, the developed glycerin, as you can see from the legs of this wine." She holds her glass up for the audience, and, perhaps remembering her ties to Bordeaux, she adds, "One of your California fruit bombs."

  Denis swirls his fifth glass. "Yep. There's abundant fruit and structure in this zinfandel. This wine could evolve for another decade."

  Cory knows he's on the homestretch now and he looks in the direction of the audience. "These are the grapes of Rockpile, vines so stressed by the poor soil they produce only small yields. But each grape is dense with the dark intense heat associated with fine zinfandels. This is probably the 2007 vintage. And the grapes were handled with respect by the hand of a master. If this isn't one of Alexa Croft's cult zins, then it's some new master we should be paying attention to."

  Joe shakes his head, smiling. "Alexa should be pleased with that call. This wine is actually the product of a young vintner new to the zinfandel grape, but he was Alexa's assistant for three years. Bruce Tuttle. And those grapes are indeed Rockpile, single-sourced from Gil Dagger's vines. Bruce is one of the few winemakers he'll sell his grapes to besides Alexa."

  The crowd acknowledges Cory's call with applause and whistles.

  Denis smiles at him. "Well done. Where the heck did you get your training?"

  Cory shakes his head, feeling the fatigue of relief flood over him. "I have no formal training. I just sample a lot of wine."

  Julie arches her dark brows at him. "Amazing."

  Joe approaches the tasters, beaming. "I'm sorry Bruce isn't here for this, but he's supervising the dropping of zinfandel fruit up in Dry Creek today."

  "So what was the fourth wine, Joe?" someone calls out from the audience.

  Joe, a little reluctantly, announces, "A very young syrah. From Sonoma." He decides to leave it at that.

  Snoots gets up, sensing a change of activity. He wags his tail and comes around to nudge Julie for attention.

  She unconsciously reaches down to touch him, but stops herself. "Is it okay to pet your dog?"

  "Sure," Cory replies, fumbling in his pocket for a peanut butter dog biscuit. Snoots just earned a boxful today.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Joe walks over to congratulate the trio of wine tasters and Toby follows close behind.

  Toby approaches Cory and shakes his hand. "Some great calls. I know how tough these blind tastings are." More somberly he adds, "Sorry you found my syrah a disappointment. We think it has real potential."

  Cory is dismayed. "That was your wine?"

  There is an awkward moment of silence until the suntanned woman in white pants joins the group. Her husky voice is assertive, almost brash.

  "What a nice party, Joe! And, Denis, I enjoyed your recent column in the Wine Country Gazette." Assessing Julie with the critical eye of a fashionista, she adds, "My husband and I just returned from Bordeaux last month. We had a fabulous time tootling around the chateaux."

  Now she turns to Cory. "And you are the star of the performance today. I've just started reading your blog. Fascinating. And to think you don't even get the benefit of seeing the wine so you can, you know, judge the color or viscosity." She places emphasis on the words 'color' and 'viscosity' to highlight her knowledge of wine.

  Her allusion to Cory's blindness embarrasses Joe, but apparently not Toby, who remarks to Cory, "I noticed you dipping a finger into the wine."

  How much did he see? Cory taps a foot unconsciously. "I do touch the wine. It's useful tactile information about the glycerine, the weight."

  "That's marvelous!" the woman in white exclaims. "Why not? Have you ever considered that your blindness may actually enhance your ability to taste the wines?"

  Snoots abruptly pokes his nose between her legs. "Oh my! How long have you had him? He's pretty new to this, isn't he?"

  Cory pulls Snoots back by his collar. "Yeah. He's a bright dog, but I have a ways to go with his training."

  She looks at Snoots, now sitting obediently. "I know you've heard of the Dog Whisperer on cable television? I have a frie
nd who knows someone even better. I can put you in touch if you're interested. I think his web site is called something like Better Best Friends or Best Buddies and Beyond."

  She points at a table across the room. "I'm supposed to be over there tasting what, chardonnay?"

  Joe nods and she offers her cheek to him, which he air-kisses dutifully, without enthusiasm. She glides away toward the chardonnay.

  When she's out of ear shot Denis asks, "Who is she?"

  "I can't place her name at the moment. She's new in the valley. Her husband made a fortune in real estate. They're building a monstrous compound outside of Yountville." Joe sighs. "He's got clout with the zoning board."

  Denis strokes his goatee. "Have they bought vineyards? Are they interested?"

  Joe gazes at the woman, now chatting to some people at the small table and holding a glass of white wine. "Oh I imagine they'll dabble." He gives Denis a sardonic smile. "We can always hope otherwise."

  "By the way," Denis asks, more confidentially now, "any chance you have a bottle of Avatar's '06 cabernet franc on hand? I'm remembering their vine manager Les Walker got cabernet franc clones from a Knights Valley vineyard. Maybe from Black Dove."

  Joe's face lights up in understanding. "I'll check. If I don't, I'll send Duane out to find one. It would be interesting to know."

  Trella's Terrace. The reception is in full swing; a jazz trio plays refined, upbeat music under a large oak while guests nibble, drink and mingle in the dappled light. A table, shaded by a large white awning, is laden with elegant small plates of hors d'oeuvres and bottles of red and white wines. It is replenished frequently by the multi-tasking Trella staff.

  Cory is standing at one end of the table, currently cornered by the two entrepreneurs. He sneaks a dog treat from his pocket to give Snoots, who needs serious rewarding after his performance today, and who has directed his begging gaze at guests walking by with plates of food.

  "Have you ever disagreed significantly with Pillar's calls?" one of the entrepreneurs fires off, watching Cory with an intensity that rattles him. Good thing they can't see his eyes behind the dark glasses.

  He shakes his head. "I'm not aware of such a case. But, I cover a really small niche compared to what's covered in the Wine Perspective."

  "Have you considered doing podcasts? YouTube?" the other one inquires.

  "Good idea," Cory agrees. "We're still ramping up and I need a lot of time just with the wines."

  "Who do you like in Bennett Valley?" the first one asks, downing the remaining pinot noir in his glass.

  Cory can't bring to mind a winery from that Sonoma appellation that he's tested with Snoots. He pats the dog's head reflexively and Snoots noses him. An opportunity for escape.

  "I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me for a moment. My dog needs a bio-break."

  He turns from the entrepreneurs only to find himself face-to-face with Julie Laroche.

  She touches him lightly on the shoulder to gain his attention, not knowing he can see her. "May I join you?" she asks.

  What does she want?

  "Yeah, sure." Through his dark glasses, Cory spots a walk leading away from the terrace up through trees. It's probably okay to take the dog there. "Forward, boy," he commands.

  The dog sits on his haunches and shoots a happy look at Julie.

  Now flustered, Cory shakes his head. "I didn't realize how much he'd be confused by this new setting."

  "Can I help?" Julie offers, believing he can't see her amused look at the situation.

  "Snoots, up!" Cory gives a shake to the dog's harness.

  Snoots gives Cory an annoyed look over his shoulder but stands up and looks around. Julie touches the dog's head and he begins to follow her off the terrace and up the path through the trees.

  Cory remembers to look straight ahead, relieved to note through peripheral vision that there are no steps.

  Snoots sniffs and marks an elegant flowering bush along the path, taking his time. They continue up the path which is now canopied by olive trees, and the sounds of voices and laughter have become soothingly distant.

  The breeze ruffles Julie's hair, exposing her high cheekbones more fully, her face's refined sensuality. Cory only turns to look at her when she speaks to him. She's beautiful, but there's a discerning, quick intelligence in her eyes that reminds him to stay on guard.

  Julie takes in the scene around them. "Napa has everything for wine, doesn't it. Heat by day, cool fog at night. The soil. The talent."

  Cory nods, wondering where this is leading. "You miss France?"

  "Wine has been made there for hundreds of years. There is a Graves chateau that has produced over seven hundred vintages, five hundred of them before this country was a nation."

  "No kidding."

  She nods. "Vintners in France feel like stewards of the terroir, cultivating and preserving it for future generations. Here, it's much more about personality and individual talent. Creating something extraordinary that's never been done before." She looks at him inquisitively. "Don't you sense that?"

  "Yeah. California is about pushing the envelope. In Silicon Valley it's tech, in Napa Valley it's wine." And sometimes the two become intertwined.

  "Is that where you're from, Silicon Valley?"

  "Yeah, I live on the peninsula." Don't reveal your identity.

  He stops to let Snoots explore the base of a very interesting tree. In dismay, Cory realizes the dog is leaving a large fecal deposit, but he can't let Julie know he can see it. Will she help him out, say something, or be too discreet because of his assumed blindness. He's got to do something.

  "I'm picking up a little scent here. Do you happen to know whether my dog-"

  She laughs. "Well, yes he did, in fact."

  Cory pulls a plastic bag from his jeans pocket. "Would you mind directing me to it?" he asks, feeling his face grow hot with humiliating dishonesty.

  "Give me the bag," she counters cheerfully.

  "No, I can't do that. It's part of my training with him." Just shut up and get on with it.

  "Well, okay." She grasps his arm and leads him forward. "Here you are. Don't walk any closer."

  Cory squats down and tentatively moves the opened bag forward until he secures the dog poop in it. He stands back up and says, looking straight ahead, "I guess we should probably rejoin the party."

  "So, you really have no formal training?"

  "Not with wine. I studied computers in school." He really wants to shift the conversation away from himself. "But you are a wine master. That's impressive."

  She shrugs. "I completed that when I returned to America. Of course, I learned a lot just working at the chateau. The world around you walks, talks and breathes wine."

  "I can imagine." He glances at her. He shouldn't do that. He can't see.

  She continues her story as they retrace their steps toward the terrace. "And I took a few classes in Burgundy, l'Academie Nationale de l'Oenologie."

  "Your French pronunciation is beautiful."

  She laughs, a confident, inclusive laughter. "Well, I did live in Bordeaux for five years. And art school in Paris before that. My father was a diplomat there."

  She gives him a sideways glance. "The Rockpile appellation is fairly new to me. You seem to know it well."

  Cory does know the Rockpile zinfandels well, they are among his favorite wines. He remembers taking Becca to a restaurant in Geyserville when they first started going out. They'd spent the weekend in Sonoma and it was Becca's first experience with tastings at wineries. The restaurant he is thinking of serves a lot of local product, including wines made from Rockpile vineyards.

  This thought triggers a flood of jumbled memories, the now long-ago time with Becca in Sonoma, the sight of Derek Hammond in front of his house, the image of Becca getting into the blue Ferrari without a backward glance. He shakes his head with a shudder to dispel it.

  "Are you alright?"

  He turns his head in her direction, then remembers to look straight ahea
d.

  "Ever tried Salud? In Geyserville?" he asks. "They serve a lot of local wines that never get distributed outside of Sonoma, including some pretty esoteric Rockpile labels."

  Julie has been observing him with the careful eye of an artist. He's fit, well-muscled even, and holds his head high, shoulders back, not the more tentative posture she would have imagined for a person who cannot see. She would guess his age as mid-thirties from the beard and his intellectual confidence, but there is something more youthful in his body language, his slang. He's beginning to fascinate her.

  She realizes they are about to rejoin the crowd and he'll be monopolized again by Trella guests. She decides fast, instinctively. "What about tonight? Want to go there? Sample some local Rockpile offerings?"

  Her suggestion startles him. The spontaneity of it. Does she suspect something? Is she setting a trap?

  "Wow. Interesting idea." Cory points to Snoots. "I've got him, though."

  "Surely they allow service dogs in the restaurant?"

  Oh yeah, Snoots is a service dog.

  Cory feels a twinge of enthusiasm amid his anxieties; he's aware of Julie's stylish beauty and intelligence. She might be interesting to talk to. But, how long does he really want to keep himself on parade today in this tortuous disguise?

  Sensing that he is conflicted, she adds, "I could give you a ride home afterward. It turns out I'm staying in Los Altos."

  "You live in Los Altos?" he asks her, worried now that he'll run into her somewhere on the peninsula sans his blind-man getup.

  "No. it's my aunt's house and I'm staying there just this weekend to look after her cat while the cat sitter is away. She is rather fussy and spoiled. The cat, not the sitter," she adds hastily, laughing.

  Her laughter puts him more at ease. How much trouble could he get himself into? It would be nice to visit Salud again, the food is excellent and Julie would be a knowledgeable companion for wine sampling.

  Will she ask him to guess what he's drinking? He panics at this thought until he realizes he can actually see the wine list through his dark glasses.